


Sweet Peas

by furafurari



Series: Flowers of Every Season [1]
Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I love winter troupe, No Beta We Die Like August, Tasuku/Tsumugi if you squint, and guyazu, but even if you didn't squint it's like the elephant in the room, but so far its platonic, maybe some hisohoma too, they care so much for each other okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24769771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furafurari/pseuds/furafurari
Summary: Saying goodbye is never easy, but having companions along the way just might lessen the burden.
Series: Flowers of Every Season [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791346
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Sweet Peas

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet pea: departure, good-bye, delicate pleasure, tender memory, blissful pleasure.

Zabi passed away in Tsumugi’s arms quietly that morning, when dews were still forming on the recently bloomed sweet peas in the garden.

Tsumugi had cried while holding tight onto the old canine’s body, large drops of tears freely falling down his face, his grandmother silently caressing his head with a solemn face, her own tears gathering at the edge of her sight. Sitting beside him, gripping his best friend’s shoulder in silent support is Tasuku, face scrunched while holding his own grief. He loves the dog almost as much as Tsumugi, after all. 

Azuma slowly rubbed their leader’s back in circles, trying to lessen the hiccups and flinches that are currently racking Tsumugi’s entire body. His gaze is sad and understanding, lips sometimes murmuring soft, calming words that were getting lost in between the blue haired man’s sobs. Leaning against Tsumugi’s other side is Hisoka, quietly offering soundless sympathy as he angled his head to lay on Tsumugi’s shoulder without disturbing his hold on Zabi. Beside him sat Homare, the poet at a loss of words for once, his own tears streaming down his face in compassion with his friend's sorrow. His fingers lightly touched Tsumugi's shoulder just near Hisoka's head, hoping that the touch is enough, that their presence is enough.

Sitting beside Tsumugi's grandmother, his usually stoic face cracked into some kind of anguish, was Guy. He offered his hand awkwardly towards Tsumugi's grandmother's free hand, which she took kindly, slightly trembling wrinkled hands gripping his and offering her own warmth. The Zahran glanced at the small fingers covering his calloused palm, before shifting his body closer to their distressed leader.

And just like that, surrounded by his beloved friends and grandmother, Tsukioka Tsumugi mourned.

_xxXxx_

In the afternoon, Zabi was buried in the garden, just next to a patch of blooming Asters. Tsumugi specifically chose that spot, and when his grandmother asked about it, he just answered with a slight smile. "He would have liked it." His voice cracked a bit, before fresh tears dripped just a little bit, bypassing the old tear tracks.

"In the language of flowers, Aster meant 'I will never forget you'." Azuma explained quietly to the rest of the Winter troupe, as Tasuku brings Tsumugi back inside the house to rest. Guy, who was standing next to him, stared at the long-haired man in question. Azuma smiled kindly at him, his gaze felt just a little far away. "I brought them last time when I visited.. that place. The florist helped explain their meaning for me." He sighed, dirt-covered fingers unconsciously gripping his sleeves. "It's a good meaning to have for a beautiful flower… Even though I suppose I should have brought Chrysanthemums instead." He laughs softly, which was stopped by a sudden touch, tough fingers covering his tender ones. Residual soil streaked across the back of his hand a little bit from the notion.

A pair of green eyes stared back at his startled gaze. "It's beautiful, Yukishiro. I'm sure they would have liked it." The usual baritone voice spoke gently, and Azuma gripped Guy's hand back, lips trembling a bit as he smiled at him. Standing near them, the other two troupe members smiled knowingly, watching as the pair moved to relocate inside Tsumugi's house, likely to find and comfort their leader further and to take a rest. Though knowing Tasuku, the man would already have brought Tsumugi to rest in his bed, since all of them didn't get any wink of sleep yet from the ordeal. Tsumugi's grandmother herself had retired to her bed after they buried Zabi, understandably exhausted and trusting the Winter troupe to care for her grief-stricken grandson.

It felt nice, even if a little bit scary, to be trusted so much like that. They each love and care for their leader in their kind of way, after all. Some more than the other.

Homare kneeled next to the small grave, before he reached out and lightly caressed the dirt, as if patting the recently departed canine. His eyes were still red, and his voice was rough as he spoke. “Zabi has been a respectable companion for Tsumugi.” A sigh escaped his lips, as he tidied up the mound to be less messy. “He will be greatly missed… I would prefer if I had brought an _immortelle_ to decorate his resting place, just like I did back then for the ceremony of my grandfather’s passing. But alas, it seemed that a meager poem of requiem will have to suffice--”

“Arisu.”

The older man looked up at the soft voice calling out to him, red eyes blinking as a small pile of sakura petals thrusted in front of his face. Hisoka stared at him, eyes blinking slowly like a cat. “You’re too noisy. And complicated.” He crouched next to Homare, hands still gently cradling the soft pink flowers in his hand. His friend gaped a little bit, staring at the amount of petals that Hisoka must have gathered from the sakura tree that was leaning just above the garden corner, since they are free of dirt. “... There’s no need for complex words, you know.” He spoke, as he began to scatter them delicately on top of Zabi’s grave. Homare takes a deep breath, and silently follows the white-haired man’s gestures by helping the petals to scatter evenly on top of the mound. “... I know, Hisoka-kun. I know.” He answered, as Hisoka stood up and offered his hand to him, not looking sleepy in the slightest. He took the man’s hand, before pushing himself to stand up as the spring breeze passed by, ruffling stray sakura petals into their hair.

“You’re so dumb, Arisu. Let’s go inside, I’m sleepy.”  
  
When they arrived inside Tsumugi’s room, they saw their futons were already arranged together to make one big cot, the remaining Winter troupe members laying to rest around their leader, who is warmly tucked underneath Tasuku’s arm. Azuma laid on the other side of Tsumugi, one arm across Tsumugi’s side, while Guy appeared to be stretched out just behind Azuma, one arm resting on his roommate’s waist. They all appear to be in deep sleep, face relaxed and so free of worries that they looked younger, burden lifted free from their shoulders in that moment .

Hisoka moved to the space on top of their heads, laying down with ease and leaving just enough room for Homare to join them. The aforementioned man smiled, picking up the blankets lay discarded on the side of the bed and proceeded to put the blanket over his troupe mates, before following them to rest his body beside Hisoka, fatigue dragging his consciousness down easily. He can feel Hisoka latched onto his side, snuggling underneath the cover as if to steal some extra warmth. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered for a moment. They may be not as affectionate as the Summer troupe, nor as tight as the Spring troupe, or knowing each other as well as the Autumn troupe. But this is their way to bond, to make their connection. Their way to make sure that the other is all right, in their own unusual way. But this is sufficient for them.

They trust that this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Liber give us the Winter troupe sleeping together CG you coward


End file.
